


New Traditions

by Johniarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Traditions, johniarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:58:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John talks about the new holiday traditions, and how he and Jim spent them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I wrote this as part of my roleplaying group's Writing Challenge, which, this month, was themed around holiday traditions.
> 
> The roleplay takes place in New York, which gave me an excuse to write about both Thanksgiving (an American holiday) AND Christmas.

The holidays were never particularly good for me, growing up, but I know they were even worse for Jim. Far worse. He never had anything resembling what most people do- a warm hearth, lights, gifts, food, family…

This year, I decided I was going to change that.

Despite it being a very American holiday, I spent most of Wednesday night preparing for Thanksgiving. I wanted a meal for us to share, something to surprise him with (which is hard, when you live together). I made sure to get all the traditional things- turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, potatoes (his favourite), and pumpkin pie. I managed to not ruin the turkey, and the rest was fairly easy (or storebought). I set my alarm and rose early, setting everything out and dressing for a day in. 

Jim followed his usual morning routine and I waited, leaning on the back of one of the chairs.  _Tea,_ I thought.  _He’ll come for tea when he’s dressed._ Like clockwork, he entered, and his eyes widened. “Johnny? What’s the occasion?”

"Thanksgiving," I said with a smile. "Regional perk of the season. I think you might like it. Have a seat, please."

I lit the candles in the centerpiece and circled around to him, draping my arms over his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s a day where people all over the country celebrate the things in their life that they’re thankful for. Also mass homicide, in a way. It’s not a very  _good_ holiday, but the sentiment is still beautiful. Do you know what I’m thankful for, Mr. Moriarty?”

Jim shivered. I won’t lie, that was exactly the reaction I had hoped for, but I’m wicked like that. He shook his head in response to my question.

"You, Jim. I’m thankful for you." 

Nothing’s quite as satisfying as making him blush. “And you get the honour of carving the turkey.”

We ate at the table before bringing our dessert into the living room to watch the parade. It was quiet in the flat, except for the telly and our occasional giggling. We talked about the balloons (naming the ones we knew, making up things about the ones we didn’t), we teased the announcers, we fed each other bites of pie and sat tangled together on the couch. A fire burned in the hearth, chasing away the chill November air.

It was simple, it was silly, but he looked so happy… His eyes, god, the way they lit up, it was incredible. 

I can only imagine the look on his face when I ask him to help me decorate for Christmas.


	2. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made my Jim tell me what she'd get John while I was writing, but I didn't tell her what he was giving Jim. I thought it was a cute way to surprise her. :)

Christmas. Never much a big deal in my house, but I’ve always loved it. The music, the imagery, the lights, baking, snow…

Another thing Jim never got to have.

Another thing I wanted to set right.

The first problem I ran into was presents. What do you buy for the man who really has everything? For the (formerly) most feared man in London? He’s not into pets, I knew that, and my lease didn’t cover it anyway. A jumper worthy of wearing around Christmas was on the list, that one was a no-brainer. Nice whiskey, maybe? An album? It needed to  _mean_ something, but I’d pretty much cornered the market on that for his birthday. It was far too soon for the first thought that popped into my head.

 _My dog tags_ was another thought, but something similar had already been done, and I didn’t want to bring up old memories. Not of that. I dismissed the thought.

It was frustrating, to say the least. 

He already had his own key to the flat (after all, we live together). I’d replaced a fond item from his childhood already. He owned at least two copies of Pride and Prejudice, film versions  _and_ literary editions… What else did he like?

And then it hit me.

 _I still had my copy of the Hobbit, the one I’ve had since the late seventies._ My first copy, when I was child. It was in the box with my war memorabilia and my photographs of Mary. He’d been saying he wanted to read it, and what better way than with a well-loved, dog-eared copy with ‘John H. Watson, age 8’ written messily in pencil on the inside cover?

I found some gorgeous wrapping paper and wrapped it specially, different from the rest. Crimson, with a cream bow.  Little did I know I was in for a surprise.

For his stocking, I went with traditional candies, and peppermint twists, as well of a handful of things that were… well, private. I knew he’d like them, though. God, he’d like them. I certainly did.

It came to me, then, as I was filling the velvet sock. The last gift. Sure, it was something he’d had before, but not from me. It was something he could always wear, but not  ~~a ring~~  something he had to show off. Something just for him. I had written off my tags at first, but _since_ he’d had a pair before… He knew what they meant. And, god, wouldn’t that just slap that smug Colonel right in the face, too? Something sentimental that would also infuriate the other man?   _I was too quick to say no to that at first._ It was genius! It’d represent the new chapter of his life, it’s represent what he meant to me, what I’d do for him…  _Anything._

That is, if he didn’t reject them.

I placed them in a small jewelry box and wrapped it with gold paper, topping it with a little gold bow. It was quaint. It was cute.

The jumper, a black-and-gray-striped number, went into a box as well, with its own paper. No bow, I’d been rather shortsighted in only buying the two.

They were wrapped and packaged before I invited him to help me decorate.

We started, of course, with the tree. He helped me bring it down from the closet and assemble it, along with my lights, my baubles, and my other decorations. We hung the lights, the stockings, the tinsel, and put the ornaments up, taking frequent breaks for cocoa. He seemed shocked the first time I tossed a marshmallow at him, but it was worth it. After an impromptu marshmallow war, and the subsequent cleanup, it was time to set our presents out.

Two for me, three for him, and we’d filled the stockings in secret before hanging them on the mantle. The hardest part would be waiting.

"Waiting?" Jim had whined, eyeing the gifts. "But I’m excited."

"That’s the fun, Daddy," I said with a giggle. "Christmas morning, then they’re all yours."

We waited. And waited. And waited. And when the day came… Christ, he rushed through the hall in naught but his pants and dressing gown, and I chased him, both giggling like loons until we collapsed in front of the tree.

"Go on, then. Start with the big one, work your way down."

The jumper made him smile. My first gift was a long, soft scarf, one that matched my eyes. I wrapped it around my neck immediately. Jim opened the book next. He blushed furiously. “Oh, god, you’re… I got… never mind, look at your little handwriting! You are just… and this is it? Your first copy?”

When I nodded, he threw his arms around me and pulled me close. “Open your next one,” he whispered in my ear. Eager myself, I did, and the breath left my lungs. It was a worn copy of the Hobbit, in fairly good condition. Inside was…

"S-signed."

"What was that, Johnny?"

"It’s… It’s signed Jim," I squeaked.

"And it’s a first edition."

"This… this must have cost you a fortune, I…"

"Shh. It wasn’t that much, and it’s not exactly like I’m hurting."

I looked up at him with blurred vision. “One, um. One left before your stocking.”

This was it. The moment. The moment I was so nervous about.

His eyes widened, at first, seeing the white jewelry box.  _Don’t be disappointed, please…_ He opened it with shaking hands. Jim didn’t speak, didn’t breathe, nearly, as he looked inside. 

"If, if they’re not alright, if it’s… If I’ve crossed a line, please, tell me. I know, I know how…"

"They’re perfect," he whispered, lifting them up into the warm yellow glow of the lights. "John… John, this is…" I watched as he put them on, clasping them around his neck with practiced ease. 

"Jewelry you can hide," I said softly. "Jewelry that’s worth more to me than any junk they sell at Tiffany’s. The only thing I have, that I can give, that… that’s worthy. For you. I never take them off. What was it I told you?"

"That you were having them engraved."

I giggled. “I did, before I wrapped them. Turn them over.”

 _JM,_ read one.  _2013_ marked the other. “Already has my name on them, technically. And my initials. So I added yours. And the year. Our first Christmas should be remembered, yeah? And that way, if… If anything happens to me…”

My sentence was cut short as his soft lips found mine, pushing me down against the rug. “Johnny,” he breathed. “John… My doctor, my  _Captain…_  I love you.”

"I love you too, Jim. Merry Christmas."

I have no idea how I’m going to top next year.


End file.
